


In Your Hand

by blinicatindark



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Letters, pure fluff rn but possssible rating bump?????, yeah we're gonna have some real lewd soft gentle love making happening at the end watch out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 00:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blinicatindark/pseuds/blinicatindark
Summary: At the age of seven, both Princess Marinette and Prince Adrien became taken with one another at a royal gala. They haven't met again for over a decade. Having thrown themselves in work as devoted rulers, they've kept in touch by writing letters, but their affection and longing for one another has only grown through the years.





	In Your Hand

“ _ **... a hard fought tournament, but your words of pride and joy cure all my aches and pain! It’s true I wore no lady’s token. Politically unwise, I was scolded. Maybe, but I must reserve my courtship, dedication, and admiration for the one I truly feel for. I hope you agree.”**_

_**-Sincerely, Adrien** _

He can’t help the wry grin he gives himself. The renowned, stalwart Prince Adrien, unyielding even when back to the ground—much to Princess Marinette’s disapproval—carefully, fearfully, wording a letter.

Now finished, even he found it vague.

Oh, well. He sighs, thoughts shifting to her letter, received yesterday. Affection blooms in his chest, remembering the words; easy, given how much he’s read it. Along with past ones. The soreness of battle forgotten, fatigue settles in easily.

Adrien turns, reaching to his bedside table. He smiles as he places his letter, yet to be sent, on the thick stack of hers, ever to be kept. At a yellowed page peeking from the bottom. ponders over how her writing’s changed.

At seven, it had been so unsteady, and rounded all over like the chubby cheeks and hair buns he remembers on the little girl he had met; been taken with.

As he is all over again every time his eyes take in new sassy witticisms, chest swelling pride and encouragement for his efforts, tales of her people’s accomplishments told with complete awe, utterly oblivious to what a leading role she played with inspiration and _‘_ _just a little’_ support.

All this written in script as elegant and bold as he’s sure she’s grown. Adrien drifts off to sleep hoping they’ll meet in his dreams, at least.

* * *

“ _ **... overjoyed to hear how you feel about courting, I feel exactly the same! It's why I've given no knight a favour. I find all the pageantry tiring, and only partake as long as is courteous. I retire to my chambers when I can, to read your letters again as you do mine. I’ve also taken to feeling the words from your hand on my fingertips. I hope you don’t mind me saying so. Is it odd?”**_

It’s probably odd.

She could add on some explanation... but couldn’t bring herself to care. Maybe it’s exhaustion from a day of swinging between tedious formalities and the chaotic management of the gentry’s nigh-impossible demands made of the servants. Maybe it’s exchanging letters full of candid words and oddities for over ten years.

Marinette just hopes the sense his letter gives her isn’t one of those oddities.

‘ _No, no,’_ she thinks, throwing her head back. As he often teases, she can make mountains out of molehills, but... as he always praises, she excels at putting pieces together.

She places her fingers on his words, thinking back to his hand when they met: Small, squishy, and shaky as he stammered, when she pulled him towards the gardens to play. Adrien quickly became the one urging her to play. Now that he rides across his kingdom wherever needed, his hand must have been be large, strong, and steady as he gently prodded for her opinion, when he had just written adoration for some vague _‘one’_ as if they’ve already had his adoration for long; maybe even years.

She looks at her unsigned letter. Marinette takes a deep breath.

He’s wanting a pull, she’s sure, but... in her direction? She closes her eyes to run another analysis on the letters she knows by heart, but her thought ends up simply drifting over how they make her laugh with the silliest jokes, remind her how capable she is, have her melt over some _‘small’_ kindness he recounted with incredulous joy–how happy those he helped were! Year after year.

A smile tugs her lips. Some things never change, like what she signs to Adrien with.

_**-Yours, Marinette** _

* * *

“ ** _..._ _a_ _bout_ _trying the feel of_ _the letters, I don’t find it odd at all!_ _In fact, I wish I had thought of it_ _first, but, alas_ _._ _a_ _s always, my princess is_ _more_ _clever_ _by far_ _._ _When reading, it’s become_ _a habit_ _too_ _._ _Your letters under my touch is_ _my greatest comfort, especially as I think of you doing the same._**

Friendly, yet a little flirty, as Adrien has gotten used to ending on. He raises his pen to sign—then halts. An ending, as he’s gotten used to. As he’s gotten to wish more from.

“ _I wore no lady’s token.”  
“I've given no knight a favour.”_

... As she may wish more from too?

“ _The one I truly feel for.”  
“I feel exactly the same!”_

Well. Her response has a slightly different context, but... he looks from his pen to his hand holding it.

“ _Taken to feeling the words from your hand.”_

“ _ **If I may be so bold, I only wish I could give you more than words.**_

He hesitates.

_“-Yours, Marinette”_

“ _ **I would give you my hand to take and to hold.”**_

_**-Yours, Adrien** _


End file.
